


The Long Evening

by shirokuro_sumi



Series: Series: Mirui [2]
Category: Mabinogi (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Drunken Flirting, M/M, Oral Sex, Super Emotional Dumbass, ramblerambleramble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirokuro_sumi/pseuds/shirokuro_sumi
Summary: Thirsty, overthinking Milletian tries quenching with alcohol. It doesn't work.Kinda... g21 spoilers, but not really.
Relationships: Torvish | Talvish (Mabinogi)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Series: Mirui [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607524
Kudos: 7





	The Long Evening

Night. 

Moons shining, stars glittering.

“So… _hic_ … pretty.”

Lanterns outside my window, glowing trees everywhere.

A pocket realm. My realm. 

Or, if I were to be more exact, my homestead.

Well, however named, I really do like my quaint little garden and the quaint little cottage in its corner. If I were sober, I’d admire more of it as I teleport in: the camping sets aglow by gaslight, the trees dappled with crystal and unmelting snow, the greenhouse encased in glass. Celestial mobiles strewn overhead, tall trees around. Ovens and furnaces bubbling, steaming, rumbling in their corner. 

If I was, no doubt I’d think they are very nice.

But I’m not. 

Sober, I mean.

“Watch your s-step,” I half-laugh, half-mumble as we teleport in. 

“Is that your house?”

“Don’t laugh at it, it’s _cute_ ,” I snap. “We all can’t live in an old castle built out of the mountainous side of a magical land of unicorns and dragons.”

“Aside from the given that I didn’t live in Avalon Gate, I should say that my personal quarters were hardly better than this, actually.”

“Well, _you’re_ hardly better. Or is that ‘better hard’?”

“And _you_ need to get to bed.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Talvish; you’re not my mom.”

I could feel him close by as I fumble my door, as stalwart as ever. Could hardly believe he drank more than I did and yet can stay so steady, flippin’ unfair. 

Probably as steady as this door - so I think as I angrily kick its stubborn front.

“The other way, maybe?”

“I know how to operate a door,” I grumble.

“No, but… it looks like a handle you push down, not try to twist.”

A reach, over my shoulder. A downward flick of the wrist.

“...”

“I told you.”

“You’re lucky I like you, else I’d stab you right now. You like being stabbed, right? Or is that just me?”

“Do you always think like this, or is the alcohol bringing out another personality?”

I try to think. It doesn’t work. “I dunno. Does it matter?”

He turns on the lights, which illuminates the studio setup inside with like a bajillion lumens. Under such a bright glare, I easily find my rug, fluffy and white at the foot of my bed. Stumble to it, collapse on it.

“...Mirui.”

“What.”

“Your bed is right there.”

“But it’s gonna smell like alcohol and noodle broth in the morning and I don’t wanna do laundry.”

“I’ll change your clothes, if that would get you to sleep.”

“Gonna strip me naked while I can’t even be trusted to wield a gathering knife? Wow, talk about taking advantage.”

He sighs, crouching down and looping his arms under my shoulders in a way that all the squirming in the world can’t dislodge. And I know this because I try, I really do. “Unhand me, you ramen-headed ruffian!” I yowl angrily.

“You might actually be more trouble than getting Altam back after a group drinking party…”

“Is that a challenge? Consider it accepted.”

“No, Mirui, I— Really, please just let me get you into your sleeping clothes.”

“Cool, ‘cause I sleep buck naked.”

“There’s an obviously used set folded on your pillows.”

“Damn it. You’re still going to see me in my birthday suit though, kyaa!”

“I’m not going to do anything with you, calm down. It’s late and we should both be asleep.”

“Sleeping together, you mean.”

“No, I mean asleep,” he says shortly, deftly flipping me onto my bed and pinning me there as he pulls off clothing. I curse the laziness of my self of three hours past in giving him no more of a challenge than sweats and a hoodie - though, to be fair, I’m not going to deny that there was some deliberation over what color briefs I’d be wearing when Talvish agreed to accompany me to the bar. But, even after so long since I've last seen him - or maybe even _because_ it’s been so long since I’ve last seen him - there was no way in hell I was going to say anything sober. 

A layer of self-restraint that doesn’t change how I feel about him, unfortunately. Hence the four cocktails and three shots of, er, inhibition-removal potion. 

But by the gods, these side effects… 

“Mirui, are you feeling alright? You’re strangely quiet.”

Hnng, why does his voice sound so nice when he gets worried? “Huh? I’m… yeah, I’m okay.”

“Do you feel like you need a waste bin?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, if I do I just throw up rainbows.”

“Is… is that so?”

“It’s a Milletian thing, don’t ask.”

“Are you nauseated at all? Thirsty?”

“Something wet to suck on would be nice, yeah.”

Again, no response. Which just feeds into that suspicion I’d harbored ever since I had my last drink, had downed that mojito like it’d fix my thirst, had gotten tipsy enough to finally make a grab at him both verbally and, er, physically. Then… that look on his face, and how quickly we left the bar after that… Well, apparently, lowered inhibitions doesn’t make me any more desirable; if anything, it’s absolutely tanked my chances. 

I bury my head into my sheets, struggling against being turned on by having my shirt removed. Why didn’t I consider he’d be so honorable as to just take care of me when I sabotage myself like this? Thinking he would be _that kind_ of person… I’m such an idiot, of course he wouldn’t be like me. He’s… he’s better than that. Why should I bring him down to my level to solve a problem that doesn’t concern his well-being at all?

He’d almost gotten me completely re-clothed in flannel when I finally decide to wave the white flag. Or, since I probably don’t own anything so stainless, drab gray. Does that still count? I hope it still counts. “Hey, Talvish.”

“Hm?”

“Sorry, but I think… I’d like a shower.”

“Are you going to be alright taking one by yourself?”

“I’m not that drunk,” I try to assure him and myself. Emphasis on ‘try’. “Or… maybe I am, but I’d… I’d like to cool my head a bit before bed.”

That he doesn’t object is nice. That he doesn’t follow me in is… well, less nice, but expected, I suppose. The bathroom door goes clack behind me and I glumly turn on the water, taking off the pajamas that he’d fought so hard to put on me, too aware of how my blood pressure refuses to come down. Refuses to stop screaming for attention.

By the gods, I wish he’d followed me.

“Stop being disappointed,” I grumble to myself, seeing steam and climbing in. “Just rub it out and go to bed, like he wants you to.”

Hot water hits my skin, like a phantom of someone’s body heat. Washcloth and hands, bubbles in my grip, touching places that otherwise don’t see the light of day.

I close my eyes, the sound of water obscuringly loud.

If… 

_Gulp._

If he… did come in, though…

I shiver at the thought, in the middle of soaping myself down. Both of us… Both of us in this tiny space, slick and slippery all over, his touch gliding over my skin, his chest against my back and steaming rivulets running in between. Bracing myself against the icy tile walls as he’s fitting his large hands over my pelvis, his chin and curls dripping rain onto my shoulders; a mumbled warning, his low voice rumbling in my ear. Touches, brief teasings, and… _nngh_ , and then his m-manhood slowly sliding inside me, so hot that it makes the shower seem lukewarm, the sound of our panting mixed into spray and splash as he pulls, and t-thrusts, pulls and thrusts, thrusts and _thrusts_ and and _haaah_ , yes, _yes_ , t-to be so used like this, pleasured like this… Moaning his name as that huge member of his is forcefully piercing me again and again, our voices increasingly in volume and desperation, reverberating off the walls until… _aah_ , until there is more than… more than just water… snaking down… my legs…!

Such… ah, such a thing is… 

It’s…!

“Ah… _nngh_!”

A gasp. A wet 

_spurt_ , then, and 

blessed, blessed _relief_ — though, 

as usual… ephemerally short-lived. 

Forehead meets cold tile, tired breaths taste steam, taunting in its purity. My eyes close, letting the hot water wash over me but it… it isn’t without any small amount of shame that I slink back into reality limp, panting, and with a complete mess in my hands. Letting it sink in that I can imagine things like this. That I can sully his image like this.

And successfully get off to it, too.

As usual.

“…Ugh.”

I clean myself off, not even fazed anymore. Contrary to in my fantasies, the touch of my slightly soapy and very sticky palm is nowhere near what I’d call arousing. And instead of the rush of what coming should properly feel like, all I get is a deepening sense of dissatisfaction as I wash my skin clean, wishing my sorry state of mind could be washed clear along with it. 

“Sorry for borrowing you,” I mutter like a confession, turning off the water. I’m aware that I’m still not completely clean, mentally speaking, but I at least feel sober enough to not tear Talvish’s pants off when in his general vicinity. So good enough, I suppose.

“Not like he’s going to let anything happen anyway,” I mumble, toweling myself off quickly and jumping into my sleeping clothes. Pulling the bathroom door open.

Loudly cursing. 

“By the gods, Talvish!”

I’m not sober enough to avoid a scare as the bathroom light illuminates his figure in the middle of the darkness, right outside the door. “Hm?” he says, looking up. “Oh, I’m glad to see you didn’t end up falling in the shower.”

“Why are all the lights off?”

“It’s easier to listen that way.”

_Please don’t blush_ , I plead of myself as I imagine him briefly, ear up against the door while I was… erm, masturbating to his image. “W-Well, I’m fine. Thanks for worrying about me, I guess…”

“Certainly. May I?”

“Eh?” 

“Use your bathroom. And then your couch, afterwards.”

Of course he asks for the couch. “Y-Yeah…”

We switch places, me being both glad and not glad that there is enough room in the doorway for us to steer clear of each other while doing so. “Spare towels in the shelf, and help yourself to the soaps and… stuff.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“And… and Talvish?”

“Hm?”

My intent was just a good-night kiss - a quick peck on the lips, that’s it, I swear. But with him being a good bit taller than I am, I have to lean on him in order to reach his face; so I’m up on my tiptoes, hands on his shoulders, head tilted up with a not-insignificant amount of contact against the front of his body. 

If it wasn’t so dark, I probably would have seen it before I felt it. 

He seizes me about the shoulders but too late, I’d surprised him _and_ myself, I could feel the blood rush to my face and my legs start trembling.

“T-Talvish…”

“...Yes, Mirui?”

Something along the lines of ‘ _don’t you dare waste that on a tissue_ ’ flies through my mind but my mouth had become dry and fish-like and refuses to cooperate. So all that I manage is: “Y-You’re… also…”

Is that hesitation, in that impenetrable bastion of knightliness? My heart leaps out of my chest for a fleeting moment before he flashes _that smile_ at me, the one that would let win him the last case of on-sale toilet paper, the last bite of my favorite ice cream pint. Murder, even, if I could believe the owner of such a kind smile could harm a fly. Er, past stabbings notwithstanding. 

“Go to sleep, Mirui,” he says, ruffling my damp hair. “I won’t touch you while you’re out of it.”

_Clack._

“…”

…Well. 

In spite of crushing humiliation and raging libido I try to go to sleep, I really do. I obediently crawl into bed with the full intent to pass out come hell or high water, taking all the precautions: burrito blanket, favorite pillow arrangement, counting Sheeptuplets. But then the sound of the shower starts around Sheeptuplet #27 and it’s _bloody loud_ in the silence, filling my head with ambient static and… and other… shower-related thoughts.

_He isn’t going to hear_ , I tell myself, eyeing my nightstand drawer. _Just finish it off before he gets done._

_But what if he comes out and I’m right there, though?_

_Well, either that or suffer slowly like this. Isn’t it better just to try and get it over with?_

_But I wonder… if he’s also rubbing out that erection to thoughts of m—_

I freeze, having seen where the thought trail was going but… stopped too late. Curling up, I could feel my breath grow shallow, my blood pound in my ears. And other places besides. 

Damn it. “No choice now,” I mutter.

Despite being on edge for all this, I still find it somewhat odd to feel guilty for sneaking a few fingerfuls of lube in my own house. Sure, Talvish is also here - less than ten feet away and… n-naked, soaking wet in my bathroom - but still! I shut the drawer furtively, wishing I’d taken the time to hide the stuff in it under normal nightstand stuff, eyeing the door all the while.

“M-mmph…”

One touch and I’m already wondering if I can come up with a reasonable reaction if he catches me using a vibrator on myself. I squirm under my blankets, trying to get deeper but my fingers are rather skinny, and only so long. There’s no way I can get off like this, I sigh, even thinking of him so lewdly. Maybe if I put a small one in while stroking myself? With a remote it’s easy enough to turn off quickly, and—

_Shhhf._

I nearly give myself a panic attack as the bathroom suddenly becomes eerily quiet. My urges seem to have missed the memo, however; I remain half-hard and suffering for it as I roll over, pretending to be asleep when the door opens again and the smell of steam wafts across the room. It occurs to me then that I hadn’t offered him any fresh clothing, and my goddamned curiosity is suddenly wondering what he decided to do about that. His old clothes, most probably. Or maybe just a towel? M-maybe he sleeps in the nude, I think, trying so hard not to move as _that_ image comes to mind. 

My couch creaks in its characteristic way and I’m about at my wit’s end, knowing full well that if he’s lying down on it he can’t see me. And certainly there’s nothing strange about a little tossing and turning? My heart throbs in my ears as I seriously consider touching myself within talking distance from Talvish - and then gets a little louder when I realize that I am _seriously_ considering t-touching myself w-within talking distance from Talvish. By the gods, I really shouldn’t have drunk so much. Too many weird things happen in my head when I do.

And then what seems like the best thought of the evening: that I could - obviously! - just use the bathroom now. Doesn’t even matter if he finds it suspicious when I was _just_ using it, it’s got to be a better opinion than him catching me doing things to myself. I try not to leap out of my bed, edging out of it as normally as possible, wondering if I should also groan as if I were more nauseated than I feel. 

_Squeak_ goes the floor, and I nearly jump out of my skin, it’s so loud and unexpected. I glance over worryingly at Talvish - is he awake? is he totally judging? - and instantly regret it. One, it shouldn’t matter (that much) if he sees me go to the bathroom; and two, what would I have done if he weren’t re-dressed in the clothes he was wearing earlier? I mean, even seeing him simply lying down so casually on my couch is spiking my pulse rate; any less and… and I’d have… 

_No no no no what are you doing, what are you doing?!_ I wail at myself as I stop, I slowly shuffle towards him, completely entranced by how defenseless he looks. Reclined as such, his visage is so unfairly handsome and cherubic, with his lips slightly parted and damp curls casting shadows over his eyes. Fine wrinkles add a tinge of tiredness, and even just looking at him whilst devoid of his usual knightly manner, I could see the effort he puts in to maintain his daytime self.

The First Sword, just sleeping away without a care.

To be like that, here, I suppose… he really does trust me. 

He really shouldn’t have, I sigh. To lay himself out so close to me, completely unawares, I could… he might not notice if I slowly, carefully undo his buttons, a mere six buttons and a belt, taking my time in slowly pulling back layer after layer until… until bare skin and then I, on top of him, would wake him up, his eyes flying open right as I—

_—Wait!_

And then

the 

world 

_pauses_

...as I realize what exactly I had been imagining.

Just like that, a panic, a _rejection_ , my mind raging and out of breath as it’s screaming at my body to stop but it’s too late, it’s too much, it’s long past the point of no return and the spark has now started a conflagration. Or to be more correct, it’s always been a conflagration - to which I’ve turned a blind eye, until these urges are fire itself and staring at me with my face as I’m fleeing, half running and half falling, into my bed, into my sheets shaking and scared, so scared, afraid, ashamed - why, _why_ am I like this?! I’d… I’d really thought there, for just a moment… I’d wanted, I was imagining myself… while he was sleeping, I would…!

How I felt him approaching in that state of mind, I don’t know. Just, suddenly, an alarm - as my hair stands on end and I get the really, _really_ strong impression of being stared at.

A _squeak_ of the bed, then, while I lay there curled up and shaking too hard to pretend to be asleep. 

“Mirui?”

I’m so lost that I don’t know how to reply, or even how to decide whether to reply. But I can, um, pretend? Yeah, pretend it’s the alcohol making me funny - so I tell myself as I slowly poke my head out, looking up to where his calm stare is glittering with reflected moonlight, and answering: “Oh hi, Talvish. N-Need something?”

“Mirui, what’s wron—?”

“No, stay back!”

My voice echoes as his hand stops in mid-reach, reflects over and over and bounces around in my head and I try hard not to show anything, try to force some normalcy in my tone as I say: “Please, don’t come near me. I’ll be fine, j-just go back to sleep.”

“...Mirui, I’m hugging you.”

I’d not even a second to object before _he’s_ suddenly moving, and _I’m_ suddenly moving, jerk reactions sending pillows flying and sheets gliding and limbs flailing too many ways to keep track. Who knows how it happened but when the lint settles I’m somehow on top of him - which I try to change quickly but even a small tug on my part threatens to dislocate my wrists, he’s grabbing onto them so fiercely.

“L-Let go!”

“I will if you calm down.”

“N-No, you’ll see—!”

“I already saw, while you were in front of the couch.”

So quiet. His voice was so quiet that it would probably hurt less if he’d shouted at me. As it is, my insides flutter in and out of gravity, interspersed by the sensation of free-fall. My heart and stomach are miles away when I finally manage to utter, weakly, a simple, “Oh.”

From him, a sigh, and a wry look. “Did you have more drinks while I was using the shower?”

Such irony, when I’ve never felt more unfortunately sober in my life. “I wish I kept some in the house, but no, I’m…” I say falteringly, gritting my teeth. “I’m… I’m just like this, okay? Besides, alcohol doesn’t make me do anything that I didn’t want to do to begin with. This is exactly what it looks like. This is exactly how I feel - no, how I’ve _been_ feeling about you.”

And there it is.

Briefly, across his face - I know, I _know_ I saw it. 

A break in the calm, a slight shadow.

So… he can feel disgust after all.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s right,” I chuckle, stretching my lips into something close to a smile - all that I could think of portraying as he’s staring at me like that. “I’m horny right now. I’m horny as fuck and I want… I want to blow you, I want to ride you, I want you hard and swollen and inside me, filling in all those holes from when you burst into my life and then flippin’ _left_ , because I’m a touch-starved _idiot_ and the loneliness feels like it’s going to kill me every day that you’re not here.”

I’ve always thought I would be more angry than anything when I finally confess my shameful nature. The tears crawling down my face prove me wrong.

“Mirui…”

“If I knew it was going to be this bad, I wouldn’t have let myself fall in love with you,” I sob. “I’m just as alone as I was before but, but knowing that you _know_ now and are purposefully… Look, Talvish, I don’t need your pity. If you don’t like me, then say it. Just say it! Tell me that you don’t want someone so weak, so useless, whose head is in their loins all the time and whose words can’t come out unless drunk enough to forget how a stupid latch door works. It’s… I know you deserve better, so it’s fine. It’s fine. R-Really, it’s… it’s fin—”

Mid-sentence, a sudden warmth.

I nearly fall over as he moves but he’s quick, he’s holding me to him, his arms are tightly wrapped about my shoulders and he’s pressing my head into his chest with one hand, stroking my hair with the other. Folded as I am into the contours of his body, his body heat easily soaks through my thin bedclothes, his touch radiating stability and strength. Some familiar part of me is calling to resist but… _ah_ , but it feels good, it feels _so_ good, even as I’m crying uncontrollably into his shirt, scared of what I was just suggesting to him. Scared that it might come true.

As if begging for heartbreak is something to write off as just “fine”.

“It’s not fine, is it?”

No more than a whisper, straight into my ear.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Mirui. You’re honestly quite terrible at it.”

“Y-Yeah, so I’ve noticed.”

“…I’m sorry.”

My heart leaps fearfully into my throat. “H-Huh?”

“For not noticing. Or rather, for noticing and brushing them off, though they are such important feelings to you.”

“Well, uh,” I mutter. “Well, they’re… I wouldn’t call them ‘important’, per se… Most of it was probably from stress, and I think I emptied at least a month’s worth of tears into your shirt, so I’m… I’m probably good for now. But ahh, I got your clothes so dirty; I’ll… I’ll wash it tomorrow, before you leave, it’s no problem at all.”

“...”

The way my bed is positioned, moonlight streams in from a window and pours in from the side, dragging long shadows from shoulder to shoulder, spilling across the bed and floor. Likewise, it cuts into every contour on Talvish’s face as he stares at me, drowning one side in brightness, the other in shadow. Rendering it unreadable in such contrast.

I shiver. “W-What? Something on my face?”

“I can’t tell you I’ll stay, Mirui. You know that.”

“I didn’t say I—”

“I want nothing more than to be by your side,” he says, “But such are the circumstances. This time, too, I will be gone by tomorrow morning, and we shall return to our daily lives for a while. I ask of you to trust me that this is best for the both of us, even if it is neither the case that I deserve so much, nor you so little.”

“...Oh, of course. Yeah, I understand.”

He kisses my forehead, so softly, so kindly. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“What? No, I do, I really do, you have your duties to Erinn and I, uh, I’ve got my own things to do. It can’t be helped that… that we can’t always see each other.”

“Which is why,” he says, “I think it would be fair to give you a good memory of me, for while I’m away.”

“Okay, sure, but what kind of memory do you have in—?”

It’s not that I’d forgotten that I’m essentially sitting on his lap in this moment, it’s that I’d forgotten (or was distracted from, if that sounds more optimistic) the implications of such. That myriad of things which are possible from our physical proximity: like how easily he could kiss me, or lick me. Hug me or hold me. Tickle or touch or otherwise embarrass me to no end. 

He grabs my hand and suddenly I notice these sorts of possibilities clearly, as he presses it between his legs.

Oh… oh god.

A million thoughts, suddenly, crashing into each other.

Shrapnel and fire. Face flushing, steam gushing out of my damp ears.

H-He…

( _aaaaaaaa!_ )

He gets… bigger than I remember.

“If you could assist me with this, I think that would be a decent start,” he smiles.

I look up nervously, to a face so pure and handsome that this situation hurts to think on. Does he know what he's suggesting? Hell, do I know what he’s suggesting? B-But, with my blood pounding so hard, thinking is… I’m already so tired of thinking, of resisting, so why not just…? 

I gulp nervously as I nod, sliding onto the floor as he sits up on the edge of the bed, a knee on either side of my shoulders. Staring, with that blistering smile, from unavoidably overhead. 

So intensely I could hardly stand it but… if I try to look down… 

Aton Cimeni, mercy on this poor soul. 

And maybe, while you’re at it, a preemptive pardon would be nice.

I could feel his eyes on me as I’m shakily reaching for his clothes, fingers trembling harder than during a Meteor Strike as I undo button after button, buckle after buckle. Despite how casually he’s sitting, his muscles are clearly defined when I open his shirt, and I surprise myself by not getting a nosebleed right then and there. “Y-You work out quite a b-bit, huh?” I stutter, trying to distract my thoughts from what they’d say about me undoing his pants.

“If you fight in heavy armor as much as I do, it almost seems to come naturally.”

_Oh, I bet he comes naturally enough._

“Urk!”

“Hm? Something wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” I pant, squirming as my skin gets tingly, my hips grow restless. “Y-You’re just… you’re really hot, you know?”

“I don’t feel abnormally warm, no.”

Some voice is screaming at me about being an embarrassment to all Milletian-kind, but even the sound of my breathing is enough to drown it out, it’s that small of an objection. Or am I just breathing really loudly? “I… I mean, you’re really good-looking…”

“Oh. Well, you’re quite handsome yourself, Mirui, though…”

I flinch. “ ‘Though’?”

“Your face right now, it’s quite… fierce.” 

“Eh?”

I look up to see Talvish eyeing me with an air of absentmindedness, his cheeks obviously pink even when hit by moonlight. A color that deepens as we make a brief eye contact, before he turns away abruptly. “It’s quite the… impressionable look,” he says with a weirdly uncertain tone.

“W-Well, you don’t have to watch,” I mumble, not sure what else to say. “I’ll handle everything. I-If you could move a little that’d be nice, but…”

My words trail off as I suddenly realize I’ve gotten down to a single layer of clothing left. A pair of white briefs, hand-sewn and considerably well-kept, quite neat and tidy if their front wasn’t obviously distorted in a way that makes me want to do… things.

To myself, usually, but here… 

_Gulp._

“I’ve… I’ve not actually used my mouth in a while, so… bear with me,” I say nervously, pinching the waistband between thumb and forefinger. “I’ll try my best but…”

“If you can do your best, that would be good enough.”

“O-Okay,” I say meekly, undoing the last button.

I feel him flinch as I reach in and wrap my fingers around his stiffened shaft, pulling it clear away from his clothes. Tenseness, then, in his thighs; though this just encourages me more as I lean in and slowly, languidly, run my entire tongue from base to tip. The scent of soap and a slight twang of sweat inundates what air I remember to breathe, the memory of my bathroom imaginations reacting, mixing into the turn-on of being able to lick and kiss him in this way. I could feel myself get excited as I softly suck at his veins, feeling them swell as mine do, throbbing like mirrored sensations to a quickening pulse. Though, by rough guesstimates I don’t think I get even half as big, so… _mm_ , it’s quite… quite something to behold.

He shivers, audibly panting as I thumb circles over his tip, my fingers getting sticky as they nudge back his foreskin, caressing him with my tongue all the while. The thought crosses my mind that I would like to see an aroused Talvish before going further but some weird logic tells me otherwise, that it would take time away from savoring him like this - so stiff, slippery, quivery from my touch. So my eyes are half-shut as I ready myself, taking deep breaths as I hold his stiff member, pulling my lips over my teeth.

“Mmph!”

I could hear him gasp as I shove him in my mouth, the trembling of his lower body becoming friction that adds fifty or so degrees to my body temperature. Saliva floods my eager tongue, moans reverberate in my chest as he fills my mouth, brushes the back of my throat. Pleasuring him comes naturally, and… _mmm_ , and there’s… there is some arousal to be had like this but… but I’m not quite content, for some odd reason. I’m almost there; I could tell as I suck at him with the thirst of a thousand deserts, savoring his slick firmness, his soft gasps and grunts. _Just what am I missing?!_ , I agonize silently, sweat pouring down my forehead as I’m rocking back and forth, grinding my own impatient erection against my thighs as he’s grinding against my lips and… _nngh_ , to be teased like this, so close and yet…!

“M…”

A noise?

“M-My apologies, Mirui.”

I’d not even a moment to wonder what he’s talking about when his hand is suddenly on top of my head and shoving, _hard_ , his shaft plunging a good inch or three straight into my throat. Thought tossed straight into the fire of raw emotion; conscious motion becomes impossible even if I’d wanted otherwise, what with the shivers - near-convulsions - wracking my body as he’s, _mmmph_ , m-moving with my rocking, sliding back and forth and b-back and f-f-forth, oh god, softly fucking my throat with his h-h-hot and engorged c-cock and, _ah_ , it feels… wow I c-can’t even… can’t even think, I’m so… _mm_ … intoxicated by this sensation that I… _ngh_ , I nearly miss him stiffen, his grip twist, his breath culminate into a last gasp before his hands wrap around the back of my head and—!

Nose meets noodles, held there by Talvish’s tight grip as he comes into my mouth, my body taking it in like straight up dopamine. I smell my own shampoo in his groin and it messes with my head, speckling my orgasm with a strange illucidity, a twist of non-realism in otherwise blissful release. Like I couldn’t possibly be here, feeling his thick seed seep down my throat, tasting its bitterness as he slowly pulls himself out. Being aware of how his flavor had coated my entire mouth, probably like how I’d coated my underwear.

“Are… are you alright?” he pants.

A gasp, a reminder of respiration. Has air always tasted so fresh? So sweet? I don’t remember… though to be fair, I don’t remember much of anything at all right now, my mind is so tingly. “I don’t,” I wheeze, “I don’t think I’ve ever come… so hard in my entire life.”

A cough, and then: “Let’s try for better.”

“Mirui, wait, it’s probably best if you just rest for—”

I surprise myself by standing long enough to climb into his lap and not fall over in the process. Like this I could reach him with no trouble at all, my knees braced against his thighs as I raise myself to eye level. Arms go ‘round his head, my fingers tangled in his thick and curly hair as I’m kissing him without abandon, any hesitance or shame I’d entertained thrown straight out the window. What resistance I’d prepared for doesn’t happen - which is simultaneously great and terrible as he’s kissing back, his hands are running over my back, my neck, the small of my waist and I’m gasping, pressed to his chest as he does so, grinding up against his abs and getting turned on _hard_ by the mere realization.

Saliva glitters in the shadows cast by my head, grabbing my attention, though it’s Talvish’s gaze that actually holds it. His face drips with sweat, his breath hot against my lips as he pulls away slightly. Irises mere flashes of light-bleached blue, glittering as he breathes: “Do you mind… if I…?”

“Not at all.”

“I hadn’t even said wh—?”

“I trust you, so just do it,” I pant, leaning in for another kiss, our tongues folding and twisting into the other as I feel his hands go under my bottom. 

And then - “Mmph!” - up we go, my hard-on pressed into his belly as he stands up with me clinging on long enough for him to flip me on my back. The little twin-size mattress squeaks as I bounce on, followed shortly by Talvish as he’s leaning over me, kissing me, one hand planted beside my neck and the other pulling at my pants. My pajamas come off like magic and he’s gentle as he eases my legs apart, sliding pillows under my quivering waist.

A gasp escapes my lungs as I could feel him insert a finger, my torso tensing with each small swipe he makes of my insides. The silence is inundated with the sound of heavy breathing - not only mine, so I come to realize, but his too. I could hear it as he pants, “You’re quite damp still, good.”

“ ‘S-Still’? H-How… did you…?”

“Your sheets are noisier than you believe them to be. As are you yourself.”

“Is… Is that so…?”

“Quite honestly, I thought you were just testing me with what you were doing there and in the shower, but to think you would go so far as to—”

“You heard me in the shower too?!”

“Your walls are thin, your space is limited, and your moaning is actually quite loud, yes.”

I’d probably die of embarrassment if I was allowed to stew in such mortification, but am saved by the distraction of Talvish’s touch as he pulls away. My body turns to jello, wobbling at the slightest touch as he presses up against me, he’s jumped on the bed and I could feel the mattress flex as his hands go to either side of my ribs. With him propped up above me like this I can’t look away, I’m trembling as I glance towards his face and he’s ( _ahh!_ ) staring back, staring down at me with… by the gods, _that_ face, with _that_ look, I can’t… I can’t…!

An _inhale_ , and I can’t describe the noise that leaves my throat as he moves between my hips and ( _!_ ) h-he’s i-i-inside, o-oh god he’s seriously inside me, gasps and groans fighting over control of my lungs as he’s panting, pushing his way in, so big and still going. Would— _ahh_ , would the oxygen run out in this room first or will he run out of length? No joke, I’m honestly wondering whi—

“ _!!!_ ”

A _something_ , suddenly, and then lightning races down my body, muscles clenching, breath certainly steaming hot as it carries off a wordless moan of pleasure. I’m watching from teary eyes as he stops, he’s looking pointedly back at me as I’m involuntarily shaking beneath him, my cheeks feeling as red as his shirt as he says, “So right there?”

Oh, no. “W-Wait, Talvi—!”

He jabs me _there_ again and I swear I nearly bite my tongue off, my reaction is so intense. My back twists and when it comes down his hands are underneath it, his face is in my neck, his tongue is licking spots that make me cry out as his hips slowly sway up against mine. Tight, teasing little thrusts that toe my limits as he creeps upwards, kissing my collar, my neck, my chin. I feel him picking up the pace and I could only be swept along, drowning in the emotions flooding my body with each stroke, answering his kisses with arms up and hugging his face to mine. 

Desire and satisfaction. Wanting, and to be wanted. The outline of ideas turn fuzzy under his touch and pressure, his every movement on top of me; skin and saliva commingling, senses singing as we’re… _mm_ , we’re so close, we’re… _ah_ , so, so close.

Like this, _hah_ , it feels… _ahhh_ , it feels… so good… 

I… I wish…

I wish we could just… never… let… go…!

My reverie rustles, a groan casting waves in my ear: “M-Mirui…”

“Yes?” I gasp, shivering as his voice shapes out my name. And then an exclamation, as too much happens at once: his hands pulling on my shoulders; his lips, on mine; his weight pressing me down as his stiffness is shoved high and deep inside me and then _warmth_ , in my center, making pudding of my muscles, sparklers of my nerves! 

And, 

and then I, like this… t-to know that he’s… 

t-t-that i-inside me, he’s… 

_h-hah_ … such heat, hot, filling me so… so… _ahh_ , these thoughts, these images,

his feverish caress and strength and and and aaaaaah his gaze as he looks up, his face flushed crimson from having done _that_ , to _me_ , I can’t… I can’t resist, it’s too much, it’s too much! 

“N-ngh… T… Talvish…!”

So weak a cry that I almost don’t finish before the tidal wave hits, but I do, I hear it, I see him react to my calling him right as my eyes squeeze shut and—

“ _Ah!_ ” 

—and then nothing matters anymore as I’m convulsing, _coming_ , shuddering as it passes through and feeling a splatter on my chest he’d bent me so far over. A blissful euphoria slams into my head and like magic it’s poofed, blank, wiped clean; with neither worry nor anxiety there to linger, just this elation, this feeling of satiation! His hand is on the side of my face and gently coaxing, though I’d have followed less to kiss him again it feels so intimate, it feels so good, so good to be here right now with the touch of his lips against mine.

There’s so much heat between us that I’d call it uncomfortable if it weren’t for how nice it feels to be held by him, to hear his tired panting alongside my own. He rolls over but pulls me to him, and I gladly collapse into the crook of his shoulder, curling up against his chest, damp and sticky all over but too, too tired to care.

“Was that enough to satisfy you?” he asks with a cheeky tone.

“M-more than enough,” I mumble, still flushed and dizzy from the exertion. 

“Well, good. If you don’t mind the suggestion, I would prefer not to waste the night having to deal with your drunken antics, so please try to abstain from the alcohol next time.”

“N-next time?”

“Certainly you can’t have thought you’re the only one who enjoys such play?” 

I wish I could burrow deeper in my bed, I’m ashamed of having to admit that, well… “I guess I’ve never really thought about how other people feel about it,” I mumble. “It’s always been something just… wrong to think about. Something to be ashamed about being preoccupied with.”

“Do you consider it shameful, what we just did?”

“Well, no, but that’s because you were okay with it, and I was… yeah, more than okay with it, but, well, you know, just…”

“Hm?”

I sigh. “I mean, is it really alright of me to ask it of you? Shouldn’t I be content with… with just having you here?”

“ _Are_ you content with just having me here?”

“Uh…”

The breeze of his exhale rustles my hair. “You really are quite terrible at lying. Perhaps it was too much of me to ask only for your patience. Simply telling you that I will be yours feels too ephemeral, hm?”

I know the correct answer. It hangs in the back of my throat like a line from some romance novel: a calm smile and shake of the head, a reassurance that distance means nothing if we truly love each other, that I could wait a thousand years if he wants me to and I’d be fine with it. Faith and trust and a library’s worth of sweet words I’ve read over the years, woven into a utopian state of mind that cannot waver, can never see doubt. Such is the way of love, certainly? That grandest aspect of humanity?

And yet, simultaneously, the details of memories fade in and out of sight. An empty hand. An empty sky. A long walk along streams that glistened but not in the way I was looking for. Dissonance ringing forlornly between what had happened, versus what I wished would have happened.

Such weakness on my part, unable to bridge that gap no matter how hard I try.

“Sometimes…” 

A sigh, as I dredge up old melancholy. 

“Sometimes,” I say quietly, “I wondered if you were just someone I dreamed up. A figment of my imagination, to comfort myself with when the nights get too long, or the loneliness too painful. Something to keep the jealousy at bay as I watch all these people find happiness in one another, wondering when I could also…” 

Chill creeps in against my back, and I shy closer to him. “Having not heard from you in these past months, I… I just let it get to me, I guess,” I mumble.

“I understand. Uncertainty is a frightening thing to face, especially alone.” 

My scalp tingles as his hand runs over it; my mind does the same as he says: “I stand by my reply at Avalon. I have watched over you for a long time, in hidden affections; if you would have me, I will be yours, and I would be more than happy if you will be mine. But, if you are unsatisfied with me… if you would prefer somebody who is more present, more real to hold…”

“No, it’s you,” I blurt out immediately. “Even when I couldn’t see you, even if I couldn’t hear or touch you I’ve never once thought, with anyone else… No, it wouldn’t be the same. I’m sorry for seeming, er, for being so weak, but… but I really do love you, Talvish.”

An impression, maybe, of a smile in the darkness. “Surely you’re not biased because we were just sleeping together?”

“W-Well, er, you _are_ really good in b-bed, but…”

“There’s no need to be so flustered,” he laughs, little butterflies fluttering in my stomach as he does so. “I was, hm, how do you put it, poking fun at you?”

“Just how bad are you at reading the atmosphere…?”

What little stress I’d gotten from that exchange evaporates as I feel his lips on my forehead, his thumb-strokes on the curve of my neck. His voice, deep and calm, ringing in my head. 

“However weak or flawed, hapless or hopeless; however unkind or unworthy you think yourself - I will love you, Mirui,” he says quietly. “Nothing in this world can change that, so don’t doubt yourself so. Don’t be ashamed of being who you are, especially in front of me.”

“And if it helps motivate you, I should admit that I do enjoy your body a fair amount,” he adds, reddening my cheeks a deeper rouge than Eweca peeping over the windowsill. “Perhaps it doesn’t mean much, given that you switch bodies on a near-yearly basis, but—”

“How do you say things like that so casually?” I squeak, suddenly reminded that we’re still bottomless and in bed together.

“It isn’t difficult to speak the truth. Though…”

“Huh? What?” 

“Ah, nothing you should concern yourself with. To you, it may very well be a good thing.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Really, what?”

“Well, given how fervently you were vying for attention, I was… surprised at how little it actually took to calm you down.”

“Is it just me or did you actually want to say ‘disappointed’?”

“If you don’t care for euphemisms, I suppose you could say that, yes.”

“How… just how many times were you expecting?”

“At least five?”

I nearly choke, my mouth suddenly dry just from the thought. And here I assumed I was the dumb and horny one. “I think it would do you some good to hang around some _normal_ people for a change,” I say weakly.

“’Normal’?”

“Why in Erinn would you think _five_ is a reasonable number?! Once is normal, twice is lucky, three times is… like, fiction and dirty magazines. Whatever Merlin’s been telling you, I assure you nobody lasts that long!”

“I do, though?”

“...”

“...”

“...Come again?”

“Would you like me to?”

Mentally, a facepalm. “No, I meant - augh, never mind, so you’re… you’re like that one bunny that just keeps going and going?”

“I’m not sure what sort of rabbit you’re referring to, but yes, I can keep going. Is this not normal?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Hm. Well, is ‘not normal’ necessarily a bad thing, in this case?”

_Aton Cimeni, what have you done?_ I silently cry as he smiles at me, so innocently and yet… not. Maybe? Seriously, does he not actually understand, or does he understand and is just playing me with that hello-old-friend face? Well, whether he’s dense as cheddar or the smoothest block of cheese in the vault, it really doesn’t matter when the end result is the same, now does it?

“Just… just go easy on me, okay?” I mutter, feeling hotter than than the time I drank seven mojitos in one sitting. “I’m fine with d-doing it until you’re satisfied, but, um, I probably won’t be helping very much just so you kn— Ah?! Wait, Talvish, I’m—!”

...

..

.

..

...

Daytime.

Palala shining, dew glittering.

“...Ow.”

Sunlight streaming like a Flame Burst through my windows, making my eyes hurt more than a critical hit.

And my back. My hips. My legs, neck, jaw… Really, I could just truthfully say that everything hurts; and on top of that I wake up to a goddamned _hangover_ , which is arguably the worst part. Drinking like that when I should’ve known better… ugh, I hate how my head is spinning. So dizzy, so achy. What… what happened last night? I knew today was supposed to be a work day, so why…?

“Should’ve kept some mushroom stew handy,” I groan, rolling over to bury my face back in my blankets. “Or coffee. Hell, I might even pop a rebirth potion; I don’t have time to sleep the day away, I’ve got to train and farm and—”

I stop mid-turn. Rub blurry eyes that don’t correct themselves any more, but even if I’m not quite 100% here, there’s no mistaking that face. That hair. 

That warmth.

Yesterday rushes back to me in a heartbeat, and then nothing on my to-do list mattered anymore.

With an aching arm I reach for the curtains over my bed and draw them shut. The pounding in my head spikes a little from the movement, but it calms down soon enough as I flop into my pillows, resting my head back down on Talvish’s outstretched arm.   
I know I wasn’t supposed to wake before he does. I know it would be more difficult to bring himself to leave if we were both there when he does. If I plead, he would stay; if I cling, he won’t fly off again.

So much influence, and yet.

Slowly, I close my eyes just enough to see his sleeping face. Focus on the rustle of sheets, the sound of his soft breathing. Small beams of sunlight dance across his form from the cracks in the curtains but I don’t care, I still imagine that we’ve not yet left the long, long evening.

Mm, but, surely I can have just a single indulgence?

Before the dark and the quiet take me again…

“Good morning, Talvish,” I murmur. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

**Author's Note:**

> To Aton Cimeni: Sorry (not sorry).
> 
> (Also, bring him back -suffering-)


End file.
